Chapter 3 - The Birthday Wish
I found Maya three blocks from the hospital.
She was sitting at a bus stop.
The cake box rested on her knees.
“Maya!”
She looked up.
“You left.”
“I went where Denise told me.”
“You ran away.”
“I walked.”
“That isn't better.”
She hugged the cake.
“They were nice.”
“Then why leave?”
“Because Mom's birthday is today.”
I sat beside her.
“You could have asked them to bring you.”
“They said maybe later.”
“And later wasn't good enough?”
She shook her head.
“What if Mom dies before later?”
There are questions adults should never hear from six-year-olds.
That was one.
“Your mother isn't dying.”
“You don't know.”
“No.”
I paused.
“But I know she's fighting.”
Maya looked at me.
“She's mad at you.”
“I noticed.”
“She said you fired her.”
“I approved the decision that eliminated her job.”
“So you did.”
Kids have an irritating talent for removing corporate language from corporate mistakes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought the company needed to save money.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mom?”
I had no answer.
She slid off the bench.
“Can we see her?”
At the hospital, Elena was furious.
“Maya Rivera!”
Maya froze.
“You ran away?”
“I brought your cake.”
“You do not run away!”
“Happy birthday.”
Elena stopped.
Maya placed the battered cake box on the bedside table.
“I paid for it myself.”
Elena covered her mouth.
“Dollar thirty-four.”
“You spent all your money?”
Maya nodded.
“I wanted you to have something.”
Elena began crying.
“Come here.”
Maya climbed carefully beside her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Maya whispered, “Don't die.”
Elena pulled her close.
“I’m not planning to.”
“Promise?”
“I promise I'll do everything the doctors say.”
Maya accepted the revised promise.
Rosemary arrived thirty minutes later with Clara.
They brought plates.
Forks.
And six candles.
“You people followed me too?” Maya asked.
Rosemary laughed.
“Apparently you're difficult to keep up with.”
They opened the box.
The cake had survived.
Mostly.
One side leaned badly.
Maya looked horrified.
Rosemary inspected it.
“Professional opinion?”
“What?”
“Still cake.”
Maya smiled.
We sang.
Elena blew out the candles.
Then Maya asked, “What did you wish for?”
“If I tell you, it won't come true.”
Maya leaned closer.
“I wished we'd have a home again.”
Elena stared at her.
“Maya—”
“You said wishes don't count if you say them. I said mine, so now you can keep yours.”
Even Elena laughed.
Later, Denise arrived.
She wasn't laughing.
“We need to talk.”
Elena immediately became tense.
“About Maya?”
“Yes.”
A placement had been arranged.
Temporary.
Safe.
But in another county.
“How far?” Elena asked.
“About forty minutes.”
“No.”
“It's temporary.”
“No.”
“Elena, there are procedures.”
“I know your procedures.”
Her breathing monitor accelerated.
I stepped into the hallway with Denise.
“There has to be another option.”
“There is.”
“What?”
“A verified relative or qualified guardian.”
“Elena doesn't have anyone?”
“Apparently not locally.”
I thought about what Maya had asked.
“Could I qualify?”
Denise stared.
“You met this child yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You're a single businessman who travels constantly.”
“I know.”
“You're not remotely prepared.”
“I know.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because forty minutes might sound insignificant to you.”
I glanced through the glass.
“To that kid, it might as well be another country.”
Denise studied me.
“This isn't something money can shortcut.”
“Good.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I don't want it shortcut.”
It took interviews, background checks, home inspections, emergency certifications and more paperwork than some corporate acquisitions.
And it didn't happen overnight.
For several days, Maya stayed with the foster family.
I visited Elena.
At first, she barely spoke to me.
Then one afternoon she asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“I don't know.”
“That's reassuring.”
I smiled.
“I think I spent years convincing myself that if the numbers worked, the decisions were right.”
“And now?”
“Now I met one of the numbers.”
She looked at me.
“Thirty-two people lost jobs.”
“I know.”
“Don't make this about fixing me so you can feel better.”
“I won't.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
She studied me.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
My phone rang.
My COO.
This time I answered.
“Marcus, we have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“The Pinnacle layoffs.”
“What about them?”
“We reviewed the restructuring like you asked.”
“And?”
Silence.
May you like
Then:
“They weren't necessary.”
